There was her mother's blazing star - a cool, pure brilliance. Over there were some of the Psy who worked in the Duncan empire. But she didn't want to speak to anyone today. What she was interested in were the dark spaces between minds, the spaces where information floated, controlled into order by the NetMind.

She allowed her consciousness to flow out, letting data filter through her as if she were doing nothing more than catching up on the news. The NetMind brushed past her and kept going, not alive, not dead, but sentient in a way the world had never known. Still young, it was the librarian of this vast archive.

It would've been easy to become sidetracked by the endless streams of data, but despite her free-floating appearance, she was being very choosy, her senses tuned to a fine point. This was about murder... and the greatest lie that had ever been perpetuated by a race upon its own kind.
* * *

Lucas returned a few minutes after five to find Sascha and Tamsyn standing in the yard.

"The juveniles?" the healer asked the second he got within earshot.

Sascha looked up, face drawn. "Are they all right?"

"They were already on their way back by the time I tracked down their whereabouts."

"They heard?" Tamsyn's relief was obvious.

Lucas saw Sascha frown as she realized that something was going on beneath the surface. It had been inevitable. She was too smart to miss much. "They were stopped by a SnowDancer patrol and told to haul ass back home."

"Were your packmates injured?"

He shook his head. "They treated the kids as if they were wolf pups." That was very unusual. When they'd first decided on a truce, Hawke had put out the word that the leopards were allies, but letting them pass without trouble and doing what the soldiers had done was something entirely different. Lucas had been alpha too long not to understand the implied message, but it was an offer he couldn't accept without considerable thought. "They'll be home by nightfall."

Tammy smiled. "I'll leave you two to catch up."

He waited for Sascha to ask what was going on but she shook her head. "Don't trust me." She rubbed at her eyes. "My mind is vulnerable as long as I'm uplinked to the Net."

He had far more faith in her skills than she had in herself, he thought. "What did you find?" They'd discuss her connection to the PsyNet another time.

"Nothing." Fatigue dulled her tone.

He moved close enough to caress her cheek with his knuckles. "It exhausted you."

She didn't pull away and when his hand dropped from her face to entangle with one of her hands, she curled her fingers around his. He had to stifle the panther's satisfied growl.

"There was nothing useful in the public files."

"But?" He could read the confusion, the bewilderment in her face. Whatever she'd learned had shaken her enough that she was no longer able to maintain her usual mask.

Ebony-dark eyes looked up at him before glancing away. "I felt the shadows of violence," she whispered. "Like someone had left behind a mental print in certain places."

"Could you use it to track them?"

"No." She shook her head. "The print is faint. Most Psy wouldn't even be able to detect it."

But she had, he thought, because she felt. Instead of making her confront something he was convinced of but she was clearly hiding from, he used his free hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "So the info's been buried deep?"

She nodded. "I'm going to try a few other things tonight."

He smelled fear in the air. "Will it be dangerous?"

"I'm a cardinal Psy."

"That's not an answer."

"It's all I have to give you." She pulled her hand from his.

Some time later, Lucas sat in the huge kitchen of their largest safe house, talking to Tamsyn and two of the most dangerous males in his pack. Dorian had fought his inexplicable handicap by skilling himself in human martial arts to such an extent that he could take down a fully grown leopard with his bare hands. Nate was perhaps even more lethal - he had cubs to protect. "How many here?" Lucas asked.

"Fourteen maternal females, twenty cubs, eight juveniles, and six other soldiers aside from you three," Tamsyn said from the counter, where she was organizing medical supplies.

He turned to Dorian. "Is everyone accounted for?"

"Yes. Over half the children are already on their way to safe harbor."

"Let's start moving the remaining cubs and the vulnerable females tomorrow morning." The soldier females like Rina would remain behind. Many of them were far more deadly than the beta males. "Continue sprinkling the elders in among the evacuees." Their old ones would ensure DarkRiver's traditions were passed down no matter what.

"Why wait till tomorrow?" Nate leaned forward.

"If we move en masse, we might tip off the Psy that something's up."

"What about Sascha?" Dorian asked. "Is she going to help us?"

Lucas looked at the sentinel, trying to gauge whether he was really as calm as he sounded. Mere days ago, he'd been willing to gut Sascha where she stood. "She's trying but we have to plan for the worst-case scenario."

"That she fails and Brenna's body turns up." Nate shoved a hand through hair starting to show faint signs of gray. "If that happens, whatever Sascha might've found becomes a moot point."

Tamsyn walked over and put a hand on her mate's shoulder in silent support.

"I don't want that." Dorian's tone was as sharp as a blade. "I want the killer's head. Ripping out random Psy throats isn't going to be enough."

"No," Lucas agreed.

"I spoke to Riley and Andrew." Dorian's eyes were suddenly full of such anguish that it was a physical ache. "I convinced them to stay away from the Psy and give us time to find their sister. They listened to me." Unspoken was the terrible reason why.

Lucas didn't say anything about Dorian going into SnowDancer territory on his own. "Then we have a few days' grace. Let's get our people to safety and hope Sascha can find us the clue we need." His worry for her vied with his need to protect his pack. But he knew the choice wasn't his - she wasn't a woman who'd ever take orders from him.

"You trust her?" Nate asked.

"Yes." It was no longer a question. He knew.

The sentinel stared at him and then put his hand on the table, palm up. "Then I'm with you. For Pack."

Tamsyn wrapped her arms around her mate's neck, her eyes shining with agreement.

Dorian placed his hand on Nate's, in the same position. "For Pack."

Lucas put his over theirs, palm down. As their hands closed over his, his closed over theirs. "For Pack."

Sascha's fingers were trembling. She slipped her left hand unobtrusively into her pocket and met Enrique's gaze across the desk that separated them. He'd been waiting for her. Stalking her. The computers had informed her that her presence was required in Nikita's office the second she'd walked into the Duncan building.

Terrified that someone had picked up on the true purpose of her Net search, she'd entered to find Enrique sitting in her mother's chair, with Nikita standing beside him. It was a testament to the strength of her shields that not an ounce of her fear had leaked through. However, the trembling in her fingers was refusing to abate.

"Nikita tells me you haven't had much progress with getting information on the changelings." It was the most subtle of chastisements. Enrique wasn't used to waiting for anything or anyone.

"Nothing substantial," Sascha answered. She'd asked Lucas this afternoon what she could safely tell the other cardinal. It had betrayed that she'd been meant to be a spy but she'd known he had to have guessed that already. Like she'd told Enrique, changelings weren't stupid. Lucas hadn't berated her, simply given her what she needed.

"I did discover that they have the ability to change forms from childhood." That wasn't a secret - most of the Psy had just never bothered to look.

Enrique leaned forward. "Anything is useful."

"The only other fact you might find of use is that changeling family groups aren't as isolated as we believe." This was also information in the public domain. "When young alphas leave an established pack to start their own, they usually maintain friendly ties with their parent group."

"This is excellent, Sascha. You're the first Psy who's been this close to changelings for over a hundred years. Your cooperation will help us to substantially revise outdated information."

If she didn't know better, she'd have thought Enrique was trying to fashion himself her mentor. At least he was no longer trying to fool her into believing there might be a place for her in the Council ranks.

"If that's all, sir, I have some matters to attend to," she said, frighteningly aware that the trembling in her left hand had been joined by twinges in her right. If she didn't get out of here soon, her physical deterioration would become impossible to hide.

"I may call on you later tonight - in case you recall something new." Enrique stood as she did.

She looked at Nikita. "Of course, sir. Mother." As she headed out, her eye fell on her foot and she saw that in her confusion this morning, she'd put on the boot Julian had chewed. Fear clawed at her.

"Sascha."

Turning, she tugged at the lapel of her jacket in an effort to hide the subtle trembling of her right hand. "Yes?"

"Your work will bring credit to the Duncan name." Enrique's shoulder was almost touching Nikita's as they stood side by side.

"You're doing well." Nikita nodded.

Suddenly, Sascha wondered how much of what her mother had told her earlier was true. Was Enrique really an ally who had to be kept pacified, or were the two of them in league for a far darker purpose? "Thank you."